Tag Archives: narrowboat

Back to Base

20 Jun

So soon, our mini adventure is over, all is well, and we are now safely tucked up on our mooring back on the island.

But, in the spirit of storytelling, let me expand on that a little. Having spent a very pleasant few days at the chateau, Friday rolled round quite quickly and it was time to reverse our steps.

Foxy was released from jail where, according to the owner, he was a little subdued but not particularly stressed or unhappy. This chimed with my expectations; that he would simply bide his time until the next thing. But who knows what he was thinking? I like to think he knew I wouldn’t have abandoned him completely.

As soon as Foxy was reunited with Hobo, he was happy, ever so fussy and cuddly. Not a second of sulking. Just delighted to be home…

Phew.

Hobo looked extremely smart up to the gunwales with her new blacking, the top half being another story. The original quote had been stuck to and anodes would be good for another three years. Music to my ears!

So we were off again…

John at the helm and boatbird busy restoring order to the indoors. Remember, I’d left in a bit of a rush!

Grebes, swans with their cygnets and the odd heron accompanied us on our way and, with no further time contraints, we lapsed easily into Hobo time and, well, went with the flow.

We made Ely before sunset, where we found a peaceful mooring for the night and enjoyed a late supper.

Foxy became curious…

But still didn’t venture ashore.

Everything was going wonderfully well, boxes were getting ticked, but I couldn’t help expecting the Monty Python foot to descend…

By the time Boatbird emerged the following morning, the John had foraged a huge bag-for-life full of dry sticks and had a nice little fire going in the stove, which warmed the boat a treat. Neither of us like to be cold, both being tropical flowers, and it is a brilliant way to control the rubbish. All that pesky packaging up in smoke.

That was the one thing that didn’t quite come off – the heatwave I had ordered came too late for our cruise and we still had that biting north easterly, keeping us in winter wear while outdoors. At least it stayed dry and, whilst the wind was cold, it wasn’t blowing a hooley.

Almost back on home turf, as it were, we tied up at Prickwillow for a spot of lunch.

Foxy, finding his inner boatcat, did actually venture out onto the lock landing, but not before he saw us safely alongside…

That’s my boy.

On the home stretch now, a couple of wiggles, a zig and a zag, and we’re back to the little cut that we call home.

The last box to tick was retrieving the car, which we did with TJ’s help once more.

Looking forward to the next outing and hoping it’s soon. In the meantime, I’ve included a pic of our route – just in case you’re interested…

X marks the spot.

I did treat Foxy to new food bowls…

The Foxy feeding station.

I’ve been studioudly ignoring the ads for these that keep popping up on my feed, like they do, but now felt like the right time, by way of a reward. They claim to be good for cat posture and anti-vomit but who knows? They certainly look smart and he doesn’t seem to throw food all over the floor quite so easily.

Foxy didn’t bat an eyelid though – nothing gets in the way of mealtimes – but he did re-establish his territory quick quick and brought me a little present the following morning.

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Bottoms Up!

2 Jun

Not the best attitude when we’re talking boats but in this case more of a catchy title than a statement of fact.

Hobo’s long overdue bottom blacking date has finally come around and, as I write, that’s where she is – in dry dock. Sadly, Foxy and I can’t live on board so have had to make alternative arrangements. I have, as predicted, morphed seamlessly from river gypsy to trailer trash and moved into my brother’s garden, well the static he has moored there, which is fondly known as “the Chateau”.

And a very fine and cosy place it is…

I am occasionally allowed into the main house for coffee or a meal by the way…

Although it is nice to have one’s own space. I haven’t been totally segregated from civilisation, even if my brother and sister-in-law secretly harbour these thoughts.

Unfortunately, it’s not available to Foxy, so I’ve reluctantly had to send him to jail…

Jail being a Norfolk cattery which, on prior inspection, seemed to be very good. My priority is to keep him safe and I hope he will forgive me and not sulk for too long…

The journey began by backing Hobo out of my little backwater home – very smoothly done by the John I have to say. With engine on tickover, and any unwanted bow swinging corrected by a pole, it worked well and definitly the method to employ in the future.

We spent that evening (illegally) on the lock landing…

So as to be ready for the off early the next morning…

The Lark is a long straight river without many exciting attractions, but simply being on the move again…

Was good enough for me.

At the end we hang a left onto the Great Ouse, where there is a little more action and sights to see. A cosy mooring…

Mad rowing people…

The magnificent Ely cathedral from afar…

And closer in…

We – surprisingly on a bank holiday – found a spot for the night on the riverside at Ely.

Where Foxy reluctantly came out for a look…

In truth, John chucked him up on the roof and Foxy jumped down and back to safety inside Hobo seconds later. He initially took to cruising and rapidly became a proper boat cat, but years of being static have made him forget. The moral here being Do More Cruising!

We were joined in the morning by John’s no.1 son TJ, who helped with the moving of my car, leaving it at our destination – Stretham – and also helping at the helm.

We’d previously decided that, at the risk of compromising our schedule, we’d take a detour along one of the lodes. Taking a left at Pope’s Corner, up the Cam to the ‘Five Miles from Anywwhere’ pub, then left onto Burwell lode and a right onto Reach lode….

Absolutely stunning, albeit narrow and shallow. We did manage to pass another narrowboat that came towards us but I still don’t know how.

Waterlillies everywhere…

And here’s a short video of my side view from the bow to set the scene a little…

So glad we made the detour. It was lovely.

At the end of Reach lode, funnily enough, is the village of Reach, a pub and a superb Sunday lunch.

Then the slow chug back along the lode, in fact backtracking all the way to Ely, where TJ had left his car…perhaps not the best plan.

A morning thrash to Stretham, a ticking off for being late from Ken, frantic packing up of cat and possessions resulted in an ever so slightly stressed boatbird.

But the promise of a few days away somewhere new and with good company soon had me smiling again.

That was Sunday and Monday. It’s now Friday and this afternoon we will reverse the process, picking up Foxy and Hobo on the way. I’m hoping like hell that both cat and boat are well and pleased to see us…

Watch this space to find out…

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Have I Got News for You…

10 Feb

Hello again dear reader and welcome back to boatbirdland.

It’s been a while, I know…

At last, I have some mildly interesting news to share. Hobo is booked in for bottom blacking in May. This is now seriously overdue, largely (but not soley) due to Covid. John and I will be taking her to Stetham Ferry on the Old West river, where a very nice man called Ken will do the business in his drydock.

We went there on recommendation, to meet with him and get the feel of the place. It’s important to me that I feel happy with where and with whom I leave my home of almost 17 years. After a quick and reassuring chat, I handed over the required deposit, instantly shedding the guilt I’ve been feeling about neglecting the old girl.

The really exciting bit though is that we get to go on a cruise. It will only take a few days to get there, the actual length of time depending on how we play it. For once, we won’t be on a mission and plan to take our time and do some exploring. We fancy a nosey at the Lodes, narrow, shallow waterways that run through fenland and come off the Cam. From what I can gather, they should be fairly devoid of other boats and spectacularly scenic, quiet and peaceful. I will of course regale you with the tale and pictures when the time comes.

Ken will need Hobo for five days. Five days when Foxy and I can’t live on board. Not a problem for me; my brother has a mobile home in his garden with all mod cons – mains water, electricity and a Flushing Toilet bejabbers! I shall be very comfortable there, as I morph seamlessly from river gypsy to trailer trash. Again, pictures and full story to follow.

Sadly though I can’t take Foxy there, leaving me no option other than to send him to jail. I’m really not happy about this but there is a highly regarded cattery at the end of the lane here so, subject to a successful recce, this is what I must do. I shall miss him terriby and hope he forgives me…

He will of course cruise with us, then we will drive him to/fetch him from from his temporary lodgings.

But, before all that and probably soon, we plan to do a little trip out – probably just a day or two – to get us and Foxy back in boat mode. We did a jaunt back in October, just up to the end of the navigation here where, conveniently, there just happens to be a pub. We were only off the mooring some four hours but boy did it feel good, Hobo behaved beautifully as ever and started on the first turn.

We’d not done this end of the Lark before and found it to be much more windy and river-like than the downstream end, which is a long, straight ditch to be honest.

Just a few pics…

A lovely day.

Last, but by no means least, I ask you for a favour. John has a friend in South Africa who is doing sterling work with sick and injured animals from the poor communities there. I have seen these townships, their people and animals and appreciate the hardships they face.

I have met Helene, who I know to be fiercly hardworworking and dedicated to this cause. I have seen some of her work too – the befores and afters – so can vouch for her success rate, both in treatment and re-homing. John also gets involved when he is out there and has fostered several dogs and treated them.

I don’t normally do appeals but the situation in South Africa right now is dire. We think we’ve got it tough but it’s nothing compared to what’s going on down there. The electricity supply is sporadic, amounting on some days to a couple of hours in the morning and maybe a couple more at night. Can you imagine what that’s doing to businesses? They will soon no longer be able to operate at all. And as for the poor folk, who struggle at the best of times, they now simply can’t afford to eat.

Helene normally enjoys a lot of support from her local area but, in these very difficult times, much of that has dried up, which has made it necessary for her to appeal further afield.

Please click on the link below and help if you can.

https://www.backabuddy.co.za/champion/project/outreach-vehicle

There’s another, more informative link with pictures but I cant get it to work. I will keep trying…

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January Blues…

20 Jan

Not something that boatbird is usually susceptible to, January heralding the end of silly season and the start of another year with all its promise of longer, warmer days. But the inner workings of Hobo are currently conspiring to dump her squarely in the doldrums.

So what is the problem?

Two things, in the main, a water feature in the wardrobe (AGAIN!) and an inverter battery bank which is as dead as a doornail.

The water in the wardrobe, a perennial problem you may have read about here before, occurs when water mysteriously gets into the bilge and travels towards the back of the boat, which sits lower in the water. There are many and various possible causes, so just as well that my old mate Steve is up for some serious diagnostic investigations. He’s been here before and has previously cut an inspection hatch in the wardrobe floor to allow inspection, funnily enough, and the the removal of said water, which he duly does.

Normally, this would mean a week or so of aqua-vaccing to take out what a pump won’t but this time it just kept on trickling down with no sign of letting up. At this point, I’m thinking ruptured water tank, internal plumbing leak and other such awkward and disruptive things to fix.

At least it’s not a hole in the hull – I know this because we are not sinking.

So once again Steve bails me out, then checks out the front end of the boat to try and nail down what is going on. This reveals a leaky water pump – a huge relief, being, probably, the easiest thing to get at and fix.

Pump ordered and Steve booked to install it. I dismissed the service kit option when I discovered this was half the price of a new pump and considerably more work.

So we’re on the way to resolving this one.

The inverter battery bank, my pride and joy, has given up the ghost. Six single cell two volt traction batteries, designed to run the inverter to give me 240 volt power when not connected to the mains. This has previously given me 5+ days when on the riverbank without having to run the engine to charge them.

Now you see them…

100_1577
100_1576

Now you don’t.

Sexy eh? On wheels. Ideal for topping up. Neat. Battery box designed and built by the John. Genius.

They are reputed to last for ten or more years and, when I come to think about it, they have. My, how time flies. They were fitted when I was at Hartford Marina prior to Hobo’s wanderings – and that’s around twelve years ago! Fact is, Hobo is less of a hobo these days so replacement batteries can be of a less expensive nature. It’s a shame but a couple of boring old 110 lead acids should do the trick for the power I need to pull on the smaller outings I’m likely to be making in the foreseeable.

My buddy Steve will see to this when he comes over again to sort the water pump, so I’m fixed – or soon will be. No need to stress.

Apart from the bottom blacking, which is well overdue, painting inside and out plus other assorted essential maintenance…

But there’s an awful lot to be glad about. I’m in a lovely place, surrounded by lovely people, nature, the countryside and some stunning wintry skies…

Above image stolen from Dancini Mancini

And the fabulous Foxy coming home…

Fear not, I’ve not succumbed, so much to look forward to.

Janauary isn’t all bad you know.

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Tis the Season…

20 Dec

Happy Christmas everybody.

I hope this time brings peace and joy to you and yours, and that Santa brings you something special too.

I’m not a big fan to be honest, although I do love all the fairy lights, and fail to see why we should wait until Christmas to be jolly – or to adorn our floating homes with twinkly lights. And showing peace and goodwill to our fellow man is surely something we should all aspire to at all times.

It all seems very contrived and commercially led to me and no longer holds the magic it did when I was a child. To discover that longed for bike (second hand and re-painted bright red) or the Sindy doll with a couple of outfits was of course wonderful, as were all the foodie treats. That no doubt says more about my age than anything else…

But, even then, the real treat for me was when the adults all joined in with playing board games – Cleudo being my favourite. I was the baby of the family and, with three (much older) big brothers and a mum and dad who had to work hard to keep the wolf from the door, it was the simple things that made it for me. And, back in the day, I swear it always snowed…

This will be my sixteenth Christmas afloat and third here on the island. Apart from a few where I’ve spent time with family and friends or travelled abroad that is. I’ve enjoyed spending the festive season on board alone – or latterly with my furry friend…

It’s when my beloved cocoon really comes into its own; nurturing and shielding me from the big bad world out there. I’m happy with that.

But the real joy is reaching the winter solstice, and know that days will gradually lengthen from today. This really is something to celebrate.

So happy solstice dear reader, enjoy your festivities whatever form they take, and I’ll see you on the other side…

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Taking Another View..

19 Nov

Nothing much to report since all the excitement of last month’s move, except to say that I am enjoying different views…

Just across the water in my little ditch.

It’s a fact that you only have to move a mile or so along the river to gain a completely different perspective. Any new mooring brings a fresh outlook and my little jaunt round to Moorhen is no exception.

I can actually see the sunset better from here…

My old spot on Lockside was brilliant for sunrises…

But, if you know me at all, you’ll know I didn’t get to see many of those!

Hobo has turned a full 180 from where she was.

The full moon as seen from Hobo’s bow was stunning…

The soundtrack is different too. Notably, I hear more human noises, but I’m getting used to that and it’s OK. I still get to enjoy the owls hooting but now also the cows mooing. I continue to hear Mildenhall’s finest overhead and, if it sounds interesting, I can still jump up and do plane spotting.

Water levels are incredibly low at the moment – Hobo is only inches off the bottom. I can see right under the decking…

Which is weird.

As viewed from the kitchen sink, the grass would normally be at eye level but at the moment I get a reflection of me washing up!

Suffice to say that Foxy and I are happy here and enjoying our new home…

I’m loving the benefits of being close to the car, services and simplified deliveries of coal, gas etc. I am not missing The Long Trek at all, and Foxy is eagerly exploring and establishing his new territory…

There’s a short-haired black cat he interacts with. They stare at each other and make weird noises – not sure if it’s a love or hate relationship.

Time will tell.

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It was the best of moorings…

8 Oct

… it was the worst of moorings. To misquote the bard.

For the last couple of years, I have enjoyed, arguably, the best spot on the island. Very private and secluded…

Perfect peace and tranquility.

With stunning views of the river…

Not to mention the wildlife…

Foxy has enjoyed roaming free. This way…

And that…

And nosing about in other peoples’ gardens.

Climbing trees…

Or generally hanging out with Hobo…

Doing what a boat cat does.

My best buddy…

The hunting has been jolly good, judging by the number of little gifts I’ve been given.

He’s loved it here. As have I. Largely left to my own devices, yet with help and company available when needed, I have had the very best of both worlds. It’s been a joy.

But every silver lining has a cloud.

It’s not the most practical, as in being a jolly long walk to and from the car, and with a giant bridge to scale…

Not ideal for this ageing boatbird.

Factor in some tricky logistical nightmares when it comes to getting coal/gas/shopping to the boat – especially during the winter months…

And it has taken its toll.

So, it is with heavy heart, I have decided to move to a different spot on the island, kindly offered to me by the management. Berths here don’t come up too often so am grateful to be considered. It’s not as private or secluded as where I am now, but is still bankside and does have a neat, manageable garden and good terraced decked area and flat lawn…

I’ll be able to get the car really close to the mooring…

Also the bins and the post room are nearby. Deliveries of coal, gas, shopping etc can come right to the boat, and I’ll not have to climb that bridge Ever Again! I’ll be straight onto tarmac too over there so the wellies can be consigned to history – unless of course I feel the need for a bit of welly wearing.

So the roof and bow are packed with outdoor paraphernalia…

Proper pikey.

Hobo starts first turn and ‘Harbourmaster’ John unties the ropes, shoves us out and perches on the roof. We are off. Yay!

Through the lock…

Which has been set for us by Jo…

Then hang a left, a quick zig and a zag, to put us on the little backwater that is to become Hobo’s new home. I ease expertly (still got it) onto the berth where John ties us up again. We’re in.

My new next door neighbour is there to greet me making me feel instantly welcome. I have to say that this mini chug along the river was so enjoyable it made me want to get cruising again. Well it has been two years since Hobo went anywhere, largely due to the plague and first mate being stuck in South Africa.

Next year…

I free Foxy who has been locked inside to prevent him doing a runner on the way round. He’s fine, if a little bemused, and reluctant to leave the confines of his boat…

But curious. Well he is a cat. A boat cat at that.

Time to unpack the boat…

Something, it transpires, that takes a lot longer than it did to pack. Funny that.

I’ve been here a few days now and am still striving to get organised. That said, I’m enjoying being here and am inspired to improve on this already pleasant outdoor space. I have a clear vision of how I want it to be – pots and plants and a rocking chair for the deck being top of the list.

I’m already feeling the benefits of being close to the car park – for the first time ever I managed to get my shopping from car to boat in one go. And that’s priceless.

So this tiny trundle to the ‘other side’, that started out as a purely practical head choice designed to make my life easier, has actually done me the power of good. I feel like me again. Always did like new beginnings. I’m loving it here already.

This relocation has not only moved Hobo, Foxy and me to a new setting, it has moved me to resume my writing. It has rekindled my creativity, which has been sadly lacking of late, and I’m loving that.

Huge thanks to all who have helped me out – past and present – you know who you are and I salute you. It is my privilege to live among you. The boating community is a wonderful place where the lovely folk are happy to help and company is always available; something I have come to know during my 15 years of living afloat.

Feeling good, so calls for a feel-good song. Enjoy…

Back soon,

BB xx

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Cranes and Boats and Planes

5 Aug

Fun on the farm last week…048

…with the help of this bad boy.

A total of seven lifts scheduled, the sequence carefully planned and starting with a move for none other than…002

…the little boat.

Here goes…005

Up…006

up…007

around…008

and away…009

To her new spot…011013015

And John wasn’t at all worried…010

As you can see from his relaxed demeanour.

Space now…021

…for two narrows to be inserted.

First…027

Over…029

And down.

Next up…030032036

Not without a scary moment…039

But on the ground…041

Safe and sound.

One for the back of the truck…052

…and away to the field.

It was getting late as the dutch barge was lifted…062

The full moon showed up…057

Here she comes…066072

Pretty eh?

A wide beam was due out too but was getting dark…076

And cold.

So the fat boat slept in the slip and BB headed for Hobo and the removals were completed the next day.

Thirsty work…IMG_20150731_085204

The little boat is now shored up…054055

In her new, bigger, more open spot. With garden…047

And – allegedly – the best blackberries for miles around.

There’s now lots of grinding and scraping going on and many new faces about. It’s good to get to know these new folk, all with their own stories, and watch the progress made on the boats.

In two or three weeks the crane will be back to lift in those who are heading off – back to their former lives or, in some cases, pastures new.

Which has concentrated John’s mind somewhat. As in trying to get the little boat to a stage where it will be ready for the water, thus sharing the cost of the crane-in. This mainly involves making sure the hull is watertight and the engine runs.

He’s almost there with the exhaust now…001

Just needs to connect up inside.

Ideally would like to get a coat or two of paint on and fit the lovely old rope he’s sourced, by way of a bumper strip. Thinking this will look the business.

Everything else can be done when she’s afloat – assuming she does float. Indeed will probably be a better way to work on the interior; only then will we really know how she sits and therefore how stuff needs to be. She looks level as she sits on the hard but, judging from the ghost of the waterline that can be seen, it will be a very different picture when afloat: the sharp end will sit way up in the air while the stern lies low in the water…IMG_20141126_0001

A bit like this, only more so. We think.

You may remember that some time ago we invited suggestions for a new name for the little boat here. Thanks to all those who offered alternatives, even if we never really made a decision.

I, for no real reason, googled her original name the other day and was asked if I’d like the page to be translated. I said yes and what do you know…the Dutch Ijsvogel translates to Kingfisher, which we didn’t know – but like – so seems we’ll be sticking with that.

In English or Dutch?

I favour one language on one side and the other on the other but we shall see. It’s all up to the John of course – as is whether or not she’s ready for the splash when the time comes. There’s a bit to do before then and, when one has to go out to work, time may be tight.

John is keen to get her in the water though. And what a day that will be..!

PS: For the plane spotters among you, this is a McDonnell Douglas MD11F…041

Bought and upgraded by Boeing.

The farm is under Stansted’s flightpath and we always know when one of these cargo planes, often FedEx, is coming as they are very low and noisy hand-flown and have a very distinctive sound. Screechy I’d call it.

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Saturday’s Child

7 Jul

Boatbird’s been a bit boring of late. No adventures. Nothing to rant about.

Not even a boat trip – and that’s unforgivable, the weather having been so glorious. Still, watch this space, I can feel a move coming on.

I blame being born on a Saturday. You know the old rhyme…

Monday’s child is fair of face (not me then)

Tuesday’s child is full of grace (sadly not me either)

Wednesday’s child is full of woe (gladly not me)

Thursday’s child has far to go (er..nope)

Friday’s child is loving and giving (well…)

Saturday’s child works hard for a living (yep, that’ll be me then)

But the child who is born on the Sabbath day

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay (thankful for small mercies then..)

It’s true, I was born on a Saturday and, whilst I don’t work that hard these days, I do still have to work. Back in the day though, I lived and breathed work – couldn’t get enough of it. Glad I got over that.

I’m from a generation that was brought up on the promise of retirement and a state pension at age 60, a bus pass and winter fuel money. Sod’s law came into play though: the rules were changed and goalposts moved. As it stands now (and I’ve no faith that it won’t alter again) I shall have to wait another six or seven years.

Hey ho.

Lucky for me, I am still in touch with a lot of my old buddies from school, who also fall foul of retirement rules, so some consolation in all being able to bitch about it together.

We’re planning a bit of a get-together in Southwold very soon, which I’m really looking forward to and hope to record our antics here, so look out for pics of all us old dears. To be fair, and I may be a little biased, I do think we’ve all fared pretty well – have to see what you think.

We have done some of this though…001

And this…002

And harvested some of these from the roof garden…006

You know, they taste like real strawberries. Funny that. I suppose it’s the lack of a billion air miles and hours of chilling as they travelled.

I’ve really enjoyed the sunshine, the heat and being able to unbatten Hobo’s hatches, open the boat right up to catch a through breeze. Can’t beat it.

But otherwise I’m back to scratching my head and devising get rich quick schemes once again. I don’t even want to be rich – just have enough to keep me accustomed to the manner in which I wish to live.

As in not having to go out to work. Which allows more spontaneity, more fun, more adventures, gives me more time to do more of what I want to do.

Write/paint/draw/play music/read and generally mess about on the river.

And, more to the point, not having to drag my sorry arse out of bed in the morning until I’m good and ready. I like to take my time getting into the day, nice and easy.

And I’d like to pay a lot more attention to Hobo. OK, she’ll never be one of these shiny, highly polished, tidy, really smart boats – she’s lived in 24/7 and not a weekend/holiday boat that gets lavished with attention just after she’s taken out of the cotton wool for her annual airing.

That said, Hobo is a great boat and I love her dearly, but she would benefit from some time spent on her.

001 (8)

Time. What no-one ever seems to have enough of.

Could be worse…

I could be living in Greece or – heaven forbid – be living in a house.

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What If…?

16 Apr

This age-old question has once again popped into my mind after reading a letter in the April edition of Towpath, which was written with reference to the C&RT’s new rules for boaters without a home mooring.

…There are the CCs who move a couple of hundred yards back and forth. And there are the genuine ones who do cruise around the country. My question to the Canal & River Trust is: If only 50% of all these CCs want a home mooring, where are they? There are not enough home moorings available in my area of the Leeds & Liverpool Canal for a quarter of these…

Good question. And in no way limited to the Leeds & Liverpool.

You can be sure that this applies to many parts of the network; not least the London area. And this is where I’m at these days. So yes, where are these home moorings?

Strikes me there’s plenty of potential in and around the capital – I’ve spotted many likely sites when passing through the city. Old disused wharves that have fallen into disrepair, silted up basins that are chained off and now collecting junk and all manner of derelict industrial sites – a landscape resembling that of the post-apocalyptic…

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Frankly, it seems such a waste when they could be utilised for the purpose of creating a place for an affordable home – a floating home is still a home – without major expenditure.

So I too have a question… Do new home moorings count, within the realms of Westminster/local councils, as providing new/affordable homes? I somehow doubt it.

But what if they did?

Would this not be a massive incentive to the powers that be to provide more home moorings – if it counted towards their targets? If I know anything about officialdom, it is that it performs much better when there is something in it for those with the necessary sway to make things happen.

It’s all over the news; how far short we are falling in the provision of homes in the capital but no-one seems keen to build them – especially the smaller homes that singles and couples so desperately need. A floating home (in my view preferable to the bricks and mortar variety) in the London area is an affordable option – possibly the only one.

And boat homes can be very green/eco-friendly, with many now using solar/wind power, so a smaller carbon footprint. They require little – if any – additional infrastructure, with occupants disposing of their own waste/rubbish to one central point and generating their own power. I may be naive… but could the rules not be changed so that one new (sensibly priced) home mooring = one new affordable home? Why not?

Why ever not?

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